


Pinky Swear

by aperture_living



Category: BioShock, BioShock Infinite
Genre: Drabble, Drama, Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 15:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aperture_living/pseuds/aperture_living
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Growing up, Elizabeth thought missing a pinky was normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinky Swear

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers!

Growing up, Elizabeth thought missing a pinky was normal.

It had been so long that there was no ghostly phantom pain and her memories had always included the stump of a tiny digit, so she simply knew nothing else and accepted what there was before her. It was only when she had begun to look at paintings, at photographs, at the idea of what really happened outside of the familiar book-laden walls that she truly questioned the uniqueness of her deformity. In that moment, inquiries were born, questions that gave birth to more and more, an ever-growing litter of curiosity and wonder that soon allowed a single realization to be formed:

There was a world out there, a strong, large, frightening, and exciting world. One that could kill her. One that could devour her.

Or one she could devour instead.

She didn’t have any friends, didn’t understand the concept of sleepovers and late night gossips, didn’t know what a crush was or the fun of a shopping trip that left your wallet empty but your arms full. She didn’t know what it was like to run through the streets, not caring what she looked like under the sun. She didn’t know what playdates were, didn’t know what she was missing until she read books with adventures and companions and people who whispered and giggled and laughed and cried together.

So she imagined her own adventures, gave herself a larger than life reason why her pinky was gone and why she was there, imagined epic quests and feats and friends, friends who loved her, friends who would sacrifice themselves for her and she for them. She gave herself an entourage, a cast so large that she had to write down all their names lest she forget one and offend their imaginary sensibilities. She jumped over chairs and read stories of swashbuckling and pretended the book was a shield and dashed around until her legs gave out.

It lasted a month. A month, before she realized she never would have friends in here, a month before she realized that she was just a girl locked in a room, forgotten and ignored. A month before the longing of these things wore her spirit down and tainted the crispness of imagination.

A month before she was suffocated.

But when Songbird came, that changed. And a friendship was born out of desperation to love and be loved. And that was shortlived, years instead of a month, and it was a sentry rather than a gift. The bitterness was a heavy burden, one she craved to forsake, forget. No more. Not again.

Then he came. Him. The False Shepherd. Mr. Dewitt. _Booker_. He came crashing down that she found her imagination again. She found her wonder again. She found some truths were far better, far scarier, far more surreal than the ones written in the margins of fiction. She found some people weren’t who they seemed, even if they craved to be.

And it wasn’t until she looked unto her cage being destroyed how big a tiny pinky could be.


End file.
